“Can you do that in Manaus?!” I yelled.
She flailed in the air and reached the top of her arc. I grabbed my acetylene tank from the ground as she began her trip down. She
had no way to avoid what came next.
I swung as hard as I could. I made sure not to hit her head—I didn’t want to kill her. I ended up tagging her left shin. She cried out in pain and landed in a heap on the ground. But, to her credit, she got right back up again. She started toward me.
“Stop!” I held out my hand. “This is ridiculous. Your smelter’s getting hotter and hotter. You’re a chemist. Do the math. Will you just come with me?!”
“You can’t just—” She stopped. She turned slowly toward the smelter. The lower half of it glowed dark red. “Oh…my God…”
She spun back to me. “Where’s that exit again?”
“Right this way,” I gestured.
Together, we ran to the hole. Her a little slower than me because I’d just smacked the shit out of her shin.
She dove through and I followed her. We scrambled through the air shelter and into the connector tunnel. I closed the hatch behind us.
“Where does this lead?!” she demanded.
“Away from here,” I said.
We ran down the connector.
Dale peeked his head through the rover airlock. He’d taken off his EVA suit.
Sanchez leapt into the rover and I followed immediately after. I slammed the rover hatch closed.
“We still have to detach the inflatable!” he said.
“No time,” I said. “We’d have to suit up to do that. Drive away at max torque to rip the tunnel.”
“Hang on,” Dale said. He punched the throttle.
The rover lurched forward. Sanchez fell off her seat. I kept position at the rear window.
The rover had insane torque, but there’s only so much traction to be had on lunar regolith. We only got a meter before the tunnel jerked us to a stop. Sanchez, just getting up, fell forward onto Dale. She grabbed him around the shoulders for support.
“We have to get away from here,” she said. “There are methane and oxygen tanks in there—”
“I know!” I said. I shot a glance out the side window. A sharply sloped rock got my attention. I vaulted to the front of the rover and clambered into the shotgun seat. “I’ve got a plan. It’ll take too long to explain. Give me control.”
Dale flipped a switch in the center column to give my side priority. No argument, no questions, he just did it. EVA masters are very good at being rational in a crisis.
I threw the rover into reverse and backed up four meters.
“Wrong way,” Sanchez said.
“Shut up!” I turned toward the angled rock and put the rover into drive. “Hang on to something.”
She and Dale gripped each other. I threw the throttle to full.
We lunged at the rock. I steered the right front wheel over it and the whole rover bounced up at an angle. We hit the ground on the rover’s left side and rolled. We gave that roll cage a workout. The cabin was like a tumble dryer—I tried not to puke.
Here’s what I thought would happen: The inflatable would get all twisted up, which it wasn’t designed to handle, so it would rip. Then I’d use reverse and forward motions to grow the rip all the way around. Then we’d be free.
Here’s what actually happened: The inflatable took it like a champ. It was designed to have human occupants, so by God it would protect them no matter what. It didn’t rip. But the connection point to the rover airlock wasn’t as strong. The torsion from the twist sheared the bolts clean off.